"Why did we come to this Maker-forsaken world again?" Dorian complained. The man was covered in numerous layers of clothes, but still shivering like the others as they travelled up the mountain to Azura's shrine. The snow was thick and slowed them down as they trudged through it. It almost made Emprise du Lion look like a tropical paradise.
Almost.
"At least there's no red lyrium here." Dawn pointed out. The Inquisitor's nose was red under her scarf, and she bristled and shivered. Varric eyed the Dragonborn and her brother, both of which were wearing jackets, but didn't appear to be cold or terribly uncomfortable. Vidar's jacket was light, and he looked the least uncomfortable, thanks to the warmth his beast blood gave him. They walked through the snow calmly, unfettered by the powerful chill in the air. Sera shuddered from the cold and glared at the siblings.
"Why're you two not bothered? I'm losing my toes and you two are acting like it's a walk in the park!"
Vidar laughed, which drew numerous glares from the others. "Our father is an Imperial, and our mother is a Nord. That makes us Nords, and we have an innate resistance to cold, at about fifty percent. I hardly feel it, myself, thanks to my beast blood."
"It didn't take long at all for either of us to acclimate to this sort of weather." Tanya added with a shrug. "It's even kind of nice, really, compared to the Throat of the World."
"Nords are weird. You're both weird." Sera snapped plaintively. "This world is weird. Vid's a werewolf, Tawn's a dragon. You have cat people and lizard people and gray elves and fangy, big elves and vampires...and people who think this shite's not freezing."
Cassandra looked up at the massive shrine to the Daedric Prince. "We're almost here. I see a fire...is someone living up here?"
"Two people. You'll see them." Vidar replied casually. Vivienne scoffed.
"I question the sanity of anyone who would live on the top of this miserable mountain of ice. Watch them carefully."
They pulled themselves up to the shrine to find a small fire burning outside of a newly built, tiny cabin on the base of the shrine. A dunmer woman, face obscured by her hood, had her arms outstretched over an alter, praying to her goddess. The door to the cabin creaked open and a man came out that made several of the visitors take a second look.
He was a dunmer with messy black hair, locks hanging over the side of his face and over his ear carelessly. A few gold rings decorated his ears, and dangled as he moved. His red eyes were curious and appraising with a small smile on his lips. He was out of his armor, wearing a heavy black fur cowl to keep out the cold. His fingers were covered in simple brown gloves, though on his right hand, a ring of silver with a moon and golden star glinted in the light of the fire. Several of them glanced at the unusual ring curiously.
Tanya and Vidar grinned at the sight of him. "Many-Greats Uncle Eamon, it's grand to see you again!" Vidar greeted cheerfully. The dunmer laughed.
"Don't say 'many-greats uncle', you'll make me sound like an old man." he replied. His accent was not that of a normal dark elf's; instead, it was a more Imperial accent, which was cool and collected. Tanya giggled.
"You are an old man, Uncle." she pointed out. Eamon sighed.
"By the Nine and Azura, you could at least let me seem young in front of your guests."
Bull raised an eyebrow. "You don't look that old."
Eamon looked at the qunari curiously. "Oh? How old do you have me pegged for?"
"No older than thirty-five, no younger than thirty." the qunari guessed. Eamon chuckled.
"You're close. I'm going on..." He paused and counted on his fingers. "...two hundred and thirty-four years old. You're only off by two hundred years."
Sera laughed. "Good one."
"He's completely serious." Tanya replied. Dawn eyed his ring and the man carefully, and remembered some of the things the Dragonborn and the books on history in the Empire had said. It clicked, and her eyes widened.
"Eamon, you said? Eamon Strong-Steel, brother of the Hero of Kvatch?" She stared at the ring. "I remember what Tanya told me about the Nerevarine. That ring kills anyone but him, and that he was made biologically immortal by Corprus a little over two hundred years ago. He disappeared just before the Oblivion Crisis to go on an expedition." The Inquisitor said. "You're him. You're the Nerevarine!"
"Well done!" Eamon confirmed, clapping briefly. "That's me. Your title suits you, Inquisitor."
"How do you know who I am?" Dawn inquired, baffled. Eamon looked up to the statue of Azura and then back to her, hands behind his back.
"She gave me a vision of your arrival here. I knew you would be coming to commune with her." He held his hand out towards the shrine, where the priestess had turned to look at the group. "You shouldn't keep her waiting. You can talk to this old fart once you're done."
The group, save for Tanya and Vidar, gave the Inquisitor a worried look and a wary glance towards the shrine. Dawn breathed in and out and walked forward, up the stairs to the statue. The priestess, Aranea Ienith, smiled at her welcomingly, appraising the mark on her hand with reverence.
"Inquisitor, be welcome," she greeted, "Azura hasn't given me a vision since the Dragonborn became her champion, but the Nerevarine told me you would be coming. You are safe here under Azura's gaze. She wishes to speak with you; place your hands on the alter."
"Why do I need to place my hands on the..."
"Just trust her, Inquisitor," Aranea beseeched, "no harm will come to you or your friends. She bid you to come here for a reason, and it was not out of malice. She seeks to guide you while you walk in our world."
Dawn sighed and did as she was asked, splaying her palms on the alter, which was surprisingly warm in the cold mountain air. She found herself closing her eyes...and the sight of Azura graced her vision in the darkness of closed eyes. The Inquisitor gasped and took in the figure, a dunmer woman with black hair pulled into a bun, rose eyes looking down at her calmly. She was swathed in a blue gown, her arms outstretched and inviting.
"Do not be afraid," she ordered, "and do not worry. I know your heart is claimed by this Maker, and that you are him and his bride's Champion."
"You...you believe in the Maker and Andraste?" Dawn sputtered. Azura paused and then continued to speak.
"We daedra are unable to touch your world. We cannot pass through that eluvian, and it vexes some of us. I know little of your people and your world, and since we cannot see past the Eluvian, you are our only source of information on this mystery." She chuckled. "Hermaeus Mora is scrambling to gather as much information on your plane as he can, but all we can gather is from your heads, some of which is inaccessible to us. Even we do not know if this Maker exists."
"You don't..."
"No, we don't. Not for certain. Some of the daedra believe it is this mysterious deity who prevents us from touching your world. Some believe it was the ancient elves of your world who made the Eluvian and closed it as soon as they saw daedra that block our touch. I acknowledge your Maker as not quite a certainty, but a possibility." she said, crossing her arms. "Some, like Mehrunes Dagon, have dismissed the idea of your Maker. To summarize the matter, you know little of us, and we know little of you, Herald of Andraste."
Dawn pursed her lips. Why did this being call her?
"I brought you here for more than just questions and answers, Champion of the Maker," Azura continued, "I brought you here because you should know you should not linger here for more than a few days in each visit, should you come at all." Her voice became stricter, harder. "Your mark does not belong here, and it endangers you and the people here, including my followers, the longer it stays here. It burns you, and will become unstable if you try to use it here or keep it here too long."
The mark had been stinging worse than usual since they had come here, but the Inquisitor was too stubborn to complain about it aching or burning more so than usual. She sighed. "I see. I apologize, then."
"No apology is necessary, for you had no way of knowing. That mark is a responsibility, and it is up to you to manage it." Azura replied. "You should return home anon and come back here seldom. You can, but not for long. Your people need you, in any case. We need the Dragonborn; she should not linger in your world for long, either. She has yet to slay Alduin, and she fears her role, but she will succeed."
"I will head home after we speak to Eamon," the Inquisitor warily promised, "was that all, my lady?"
"One last thing, Inquisitor...beware of wolves who may lurk in your midst." she cautioned forebodingly. "You may never know until it's too late, when the betrayer strikes. Do not let the wolf succeed, for they are foolish and prideful."
Dawn blinked her eyes open, reeling back, shaking her head. It felt like standing too fast as the vision faded away, and she ruefully rubbed her forehead. The anchor stung her sharply for a brief second, and she hissed sharply, looking down at it. The green light died down after a brief burst of energy. She turned to see her party staring at her in silence, wide-eyed. Solas in particular looked the most uncomfortable, who was looking at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Is...is everything alright?" she questioned, confused. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"
"We heard her voice, and yours, even though you never opened your mouth at all." Dorian answered gingerly. "Are you alright?"
"Your mark was flaring during your...discussion." Cassandra added anxiously. "Let us return to Skyhold, soon. It is not safe for you here."
Dawn walked down the steps, head feeling as though it was spinning. Eamon approached the stairs and walked down with her, making certain she did not faint. "Would you like something to eat before you go?" he asked patiently. "I just made some bread. You look a little light-headed; you should eat."
He didn't wait for a response. The Nerevarine sat the Inquisitor down by the fire and headed inside of the hut. He came back out with still-warm bread, sliced and ready to eat. Most of the party took a slice and munched on it around the fire while Eamon answered their questions, asking very few of his own. His story was told.
He had left just before the Oblivion Crisis with Vivec, who went with him on his expedition to Akavir. Eventually, he returned to Tamriel once Vivec died after several years travelling with him. He found out what his sister had contended with while he was gone, and Morrowind in chaos following the Red Year. It was Morrowind's fate combined with the fact his sister had fallen in love and had her love die on her all while he was gone, and he had been absent the entire time.
In great shame, he hid himself from the world, save from his sister, who could never convince him to come back out into society. He watched her age and die while he stayed young, and would have joined in her death by his own hand, had Azura not given him a vision of the Dragonborn, and an order. Give his great-grand niece advice and aid when necessary.
"You've been up here for the last few months, then?" Solas asked. "Training the Dragonborn and giving her advice?"
"Yes. And hopefully bad jokes to tell others, too." Eamon joked. "She hit me in the arm when I gave her the 'paradox' joke."
"Divines, no, that was an awful joke, please don't repeat it." Tanya begged. Eamon snickered.
"Respect your elders and their shitty jokes."